


Obvious

by sister_wolf



Series: Devil's Road [2]
Category: Hard Core Logo (1996), Lone Hero (2002), due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-08
Updated: 2004-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray slouches down on the other end of the sofa, trying to look relaxed. This was so much easier in the bar, where he knew he'd never see the guy again. With a start, Ray realizes he doesn't even know the guy's name yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obvious

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after _Hard Core Logo_ and includes spoilers for the end of the movie. Knowledge of _Lone Hero_ is definitely not necessary to read this; those of you who do remember the movie will notice that I've changed canon in a few significant places. Huge thanks to my awesome betas, Brooklinegirl, Heuradys, and Justacat.
> 
> IMPORTANT WARNING: This series is unfinished and will never be finished. It also ends at a particularly bad point in the plot. I really do apologize for that.

Ray kind of expects the type of hotel room that charges by the hour and features a flashing "Vacancy" sign on the front. Instead, he follows the guy's nondescript beige sedan (fleet car, Ray's guessing) to the downtown Hilton and up to the sort of room he's stayed in once or twice before-- for his honeymoon and five-year anniversary, that is.

"Snazzy," he comments, looking over the opulent room. "Expense account?"

The guy throws his battered leather jacket over the back of an armchair and sinks down into the overstuffed sofa. "Basically." He rubs his eyes wearily. The room is better lit than the bar or the men's room, and Ray can see now that he has a swath of red, irritated-looking skin, like a very concentrated sunburn, running partway around his neck.

Ray slouches down on the other end of the sofa, trying to look relaxed. This was so much easier in the bar, where he knew he'd never see the guy again. With a start, Ray realizes he doesn't even know the guy's name yet. "So, ah... jeez, this is awkward. Nice to meet you," he says, holding his hand out for a handshake. "Ray Ve-- Kowalski." Jesus, he's spent too much time with the Mountie. Soon he'll be holding doors for people and saying thank you kindly.

The guy gives him an odd look. "Calhoun Mackenzie. Nice to meet you, Ray Ve-- Kowalski," he says, shaking Ray's hand.

Ray hunches his shoulders defensively. "I was undercover for a while. Still not used to calling myself by my real name."

"Yeah, I know how that is." His fingers trace the edge of the red mark on his neck.

"So, is that a Canadian thing, naming your kid all last names? I mean, unless your middle name is a real name."

"Nah, my middle name's even worse. Kingston. Like the city." He makes a face and shrugs.

"Jesus, that's bad. Do you go by a nickname at all? Anybody call you King?"

"No one I want to remember." His face is completely closed off, his eyes cold and empty. Ray shivers, deciding it's better not to ask. There's an awkward moment of silence, and then Calhoun visibly shakes off whatever bad memories he'd been caught by. "Anyhow, I usually go by Cal. You want a beer?" he asks.

"Sure, yeah." Ray watches as he gets a beer from the mini-fridge. There's obviously some bad shit going on in Cal's head, but he's not going to pry. The inside of Ray's head isn't a pretty place either, sometimes. If Cal doesn't want to talk about it, that's fine.

Cal hands him a beer and sits down. "You mind if I turn on the TV for a few minutes? I want to check the scores."

"Sure, no problem." Ray sits back and drinks his beer, trying to figure out how to get out of this weirdly courteous mode they seem to have gotten caught in. It's just bizarre to contemplate that less than an hour ago he'd been deepthroating Cal on his knees in a dirty men's room.

And just how fucked up is that, anyway? He's in love with Fraser. Fraser is-- god, Fraser is everything he's ever wanted. But he fucked Cal-- okay, fucked around with Cal-- and he's looking forward to doing it again. Really damn soon.

Cal appears to actually be paying attention to the scores. Ray puts the bottle down on a side table and stands up, stretching. The bottom of his thin black tee-shirt rides up, and he catches Cal looking out of the corner of his eye. Smirking, Ray casually asks, "Hey, would you mind if I grabbed a shower?"

"Sure, go ahead. Bathroom's to the left." Ray can practically feel Cal's eyes following him as he crosses the room. Grinning, he waits until he's almost out of sight before tugging his tee-shirt off.

He's actually in the shower and starting to soap up when he finally hears a knock on the door. "Took him long enough," he mutters, then, louder, "Come in!"

There's the sound of the door closing, and then the shower curtain rings rattle as Cal ducks his head around the edge of the curtain. "Mind if I join you?"

"Aren't you the polite one," Ray says, amused. He gestures grandly. "Go for it."

"Thanks," Cal says, the dimple appearing at the side of his mouth again. He steps into the tub and drags the curtain shut behind him. For a second, he looks Ray over, his blue eyes hot and intense, like a gas flame, and then he steps forward into Ray's personal space, crowding him against the side of the shower.

"Not so polite after all," Ray grins, staring up at him challengingly. Cal's just about an inch taller than Ray-- about the same as Fraser, he realizes suddenly.

Cal smirks and drags his palm the length of Ray's cock. He leans forward and whispers into Ray's ear, "Oh, I can be _very_ polite. For instance, I was always taught that when someone does something nice for you, you return the favor."

Ray hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath until it whooshes out of him as Cal slides to his knees in front of him and leans forward, touching the very tip of his tongue to Ray's sudden erection. Cal flicks the edge of his cockhead with his tongue and then traces the length of the vein along the underside. "Oh god," Ray gasps.

Cal sits back on his heels and grins up at him. "Hang on," he says, and scrabbles for something on the edge of the tub. Reemerging from behind the curtain, he brandishes the condom package triumphantly.

Ray grins at him. "Polite _and_ well-prepared. You sure you're not some kind of boy scout?"

Cal gives him an incredulous look. "Very sure."

The laughter dies in Ray's throat as Cal slicks the condom over him and follows it with his hot, wicked mouth. Ray's head thunks back against the wall of the shower and his eyes squeeze shut. God, so good.

He forces his eyes open and looks down. From above, with the mist and spray of the shower making the air hazy, the illusion is almost complete. It's Fraser on his knees before Ray, Fraser with his strong hands holding onto Ray's hips, Fraser circling the head of Ray's dick with his tongue before plunging down and pulling back to do it again. "Oh god oh god-- Fraser..." he moans, running his hands through thick dark hair.

And it's Fraser who hums around his cock, going deeper, jesus, sucking Ray's _brains_ out through his dick, and Ray's panting like a racehorse already, not going to last long, closer, closer, and suddenly there's a slick finger where he hadn't really expected one, and Ray makes an embarrassing squeaky noise, torn between telling him to stop and begging him to keep going. "Keep going, god, Frase, keep-- oh-- Fraser!" And he bangs his head against the shower wall but he can't even feel it, because oh god, he's coming into Fraser's mouth.

Approximately ten million years later, Ray is actually able to open his eyes and focus them again. Cal is leaning against the shower wall next to him, looking amused. "Fuck," Ray says, very coherently.

Cal grins, but there's something dark and hungry in his gaze that makes Ray shiver. "I want to fuck you," he says abruptly.

Ray opens his mouth, expecting 'no' to come out, but instead what he hears is, "It only takes an extra second to be courteous, Cal." _Whatthefuck?_

Cal leans closer, punctuating each word with a nibble, at his ear, his neck, everywhere but his mouth. "May. I. Fuck. You. Please?"

"Uhm. Yeah. Okay." And as Ray follows Cal out of the shower and dries himself off with one of the Hilton's amazingly fluffy towels, he can only wonder, panicked, what the hell he thinks he's doing.


End file.
